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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26785795">Unit 5</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchonAndDying/pseuds/SchonAndDying'>SchonAndDying</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Apex Legends (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Gore, Dead People, How Do I Tag This, Revenant Being an Asshole (Apex Legends), basically Rev kills EVERYONE, no one gets out alive when he angy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:46:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,323</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26785795</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchonAndDying/pseuds/SchonAndDying</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been months since the attacks on Hammond labs had begun. Entire buildings wiped out. It isn't a surprise when the newly aware simulacrum eventually finds their location. It's just a matter of how fast they die.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Unit 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=FireKitKat">FireKitKat</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A gift fic for my friend (Hi KitKat, you thirsty ho I have another gift for you in the works ;)&lt;3) who sledgehammers me with inspo every time we talk about this bastard.<br/>Anyways, graphic depictions of blood, violence, and gore. Rev is angy boy</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Security Unit 5 ascends to the fifth floor. Weapons drawn and at the ready. The air is stagnant with anticipation, soured by the knowledge that these halls had been lively mere hours before. Innocent employees working and chatting in the halls, trading notes and gossiping over funny tasting water. Now it's a desolate place, smeared with blood. The lights overhead are shut off, the natural light through the windows are creating odd shadows that devour light and curl around objects and into open doors. Blood is splattered across the walls in thick sprays and violent patterns, dripping down. It's smeared across the floor in a curving zigzag that disappears into the darkness. It reeks of copper, even through the riot gear.</p><p>Unit 5 makes quick work of clearing the first few rooms. Employees lay crumpled in piles in the corners. Throats ripped, stomach gouged, jaws ripped open, limbs detached, eyes removed. Death curled in the air like curdled milk, the masks not enough to keep it out, one soldier nearly has to fall back from the stench alone to vomit. Technology is also ruined, computers smashed, monitors destroyed, test vials crushed. </p><p><em>Nothing</em> remains.</p><p>Advancing down the hall, a shadow is draped down from the ceiling. A body bent backwards and hanging from the vents. An eye is missing and their mouth his hung open. They look dead. Still, the sound of the boots rouses them from whatever delirious half-conscious state they were in. Coughing, blood sprays from their mouth, dripping from their lips down towards their eyes. A shattered arm falls to hang awkwardly. </p><p>"Help." Gurgling hopelessly, their breath escapes them in a haggard wheeze. "Its still here. <em>Please</em>-" With a half choke scream they're suddenly dragged forwards with enough force to slam their forehead into the metal of the open vent. Violently, they're pulled away out of sight. The vents creak and groan before something squelches loudly. A head and partial vertebrae rolls out the vent and onto the ground with a dull thud. </p><p>Stunned silence pauses Unit 5 in their tracks. Six specially trained officers paralyzed. The unknown lurking through the vents like an animal poked one too many times and eyeing them before the pounce. Somehow their armor and weaponry felt insignificant. Perturbation settling heavy and solid in their bones and skull, anchoring them in place.</p><p>"We have to eliminate the threat." Their leader urges, swallowing thickly around her own selfish desires and trudging forwards. "Clear the rooms. It could be anywhere now." </p><p>They press forwards. The further in, the sloppier the piles become. Body's barely chucked towards the direction of the pile. Tears and cuts more careless, less precise. Blood and gore just for the sake of it. Pure rage was evident. It was <em> personal</em>.</p><p>"Serg, we got-" A noise no human should make echoes off the walls. The loud bangs of gunfire sound off before a door slams closed. Desperate, guttural yells are muffled by the thin metal. Still, the crunch is loud enough to be heard. The thud felt underfoot. Readying their weapons, safeties are flicked off, pointed. It doesn't open. The Sergeant presses a shoulder to the wall just beside the door, gun against her shoulder as she reaches for the handle. Nodding at the others, she slowly turns the handle. Quiet click deafening.</p><p>Throwing it open, three officers rush in. Stopping short. Two of their men were strewn out on the ground. One impaled clean through the chest, through the bulletproof vest. The other's head crushed into a horrid sludge in what remains of his helmet.</p><p>"Two officer casualties. Call it in." </p><p>"Room's clear, ventilation shaft open."</p><p>"Leave the dog tags for now. We'll recover them after the autopsy." </p><p>The conversation is brief and tense, barely directed at anyone in particular. Still, it feels wrong to have the ability to. Staring down at the man whose son's bar mitzvah they were invited to next month, the woman who'd just come back from work after losing a child, the numerous Hammond employees. Had any of them had last words? Or had they only screamed? Had any of them begged while looking whatever monster that killed them in the eye. Had they known this was all coming?</p><p>It felt wrong to talk with it so close. Was it listening? <em> Watching?</em> </p><p>Terror lazily crawls down their spines like a tarantula. It sinks its teeth in when a quiet clang sounds in the ventilation system overhead. Approaching the end of the hall, another clang sounds before the covering clatters to the floor. Weapons drawn, they stumble back a few steps. Silence envelopes them. Anticipation mixing with the stench of death and blood. The dark lighting covers most things this far deep into the hall, leaving only a few things exposed. Their flashlights only exacerbated how dark the shadows were. </p><p>A few orange flecks of ash flutter down from the vents.</p><p>Quiet breaths can be heard over their intercoms. Rustling of fabric, clicks of weapons being adjusted. Another few pieces of ash dribble down, settling on the ground. All is still for a moment. A peace that could only be replicated in the eye of a hurricane. </p><p>With a deadly silence that was built in, a lithe form drops. Tall and imposing it lunges forwards and takes the sergeant by the throat, lifting her up effortlessly. It squeezes until her neck snaps and the sharpened tips of its fingers break skin. A spray of bullets follow the sergeant's death. Most missed, but the few that do connect send the beast up into a rancid cloud of smoke and ash. It's only peaceful for a moment. </p><p>A squeal and wet sound comes from the back of the group. One officer's gun clatters ceremoniously to the ground as she's raised by the arm impaling her stomach, hands grasping uselessly at the air around it. Shocked gasps and gurgles drops from her lips. There it stands in all its unholy glory. Tall and lean, built for efficiency and just <em>this</em>. Retracting its arm it drops her before pouncing. Fighting is hopeless. It tears, slices, stabs, rips, shreds. Drenched in blood and <em>still</em> unsatisfied. Metal hands delve into ripped open stomach to masticate their entrails. Reveling in their desperate whimpers and primal shrieks. It plucks eyes from their skulls with a practiced patient and pops them between its fingers with amused sounding hums.</p><p>One <em> tries </em> to crawl. Pulls their shattered legs behind them as gloved hands grasp desperately at the blood slicked ground. Broken shoulder crunching inside them. A shadow covers the ground in front of them. Collapsing into their good arm they sob shamelessly. The pain too much, the smells, the sights, and noises. <em> Please, kill me. End it. I can't take anymore</em>.</p><p>"Crawl." A growl, barely words. A warning, a challenge, a promise already broken. "Just try." Reaching an arm forwards, they drag themselves forwards a foot or so. The shadow follows. Steps barely heard over the sound of someone choking on their own blood. "Your desperation… it fuels me." Kneeling down, those glowing eyes captures them. They already know it's their final sight. Those eyes will be what they die to. A hand finds their throat, lifting them up. Whimpering loudly, they go limp. "You already know I'll crush you like an ant. That I'll kill everyone else in this building. You're useless against me. How does it feel? Beg for your life." </p><p>"Please!" They break instantly, mind in a desperate frenzy for any inkling of hope, of any light at the end of this tunnel. "<em>Please</em>! Don't kill me! I have- I- <em> please </em>! I ha-a-have so mu-u-uch to live for." Hiccuping and sobbing, they weakly paw at the claws digging into their flesh. "Plea-"</p><p>"Hmmm, music to my ears." Humming in satisfaction, he watches as they further dissolve into their panic.</p><p>They don't feel their death. A snapped neck is impressively merciful for him. </p><p>At least their deaths are permanent. </p>
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